Duckslap

I cannot resist a challenge, it seems, even when I know I will lose. But I had beaten her at three games today already, which to be fair, was a complete fluke as I barely understood the rules to 'Moose Moose Elk Goose' - which made her particularly annoyed as she had invented it. So when she suggested to me that perhaps there was one game she would beat me at, I was already feeling confident about my chances.

"Duckslap," she said, staring me down.

I blinked. Uh oh. That was a name I hadn't heard for a while. The last time we played it did not end well for me. I hadn't forgotten - it had been burned into my mind with such vividity, and thinking about it still made me nervous, even after all this time. But it was a very fun game.

"Well?" she asked.

I must have still felt confident.

"Yeah, ok. Duckslap it is," I said.

"First to six."

"Six?"

"Yes. Six."

"Not three?"

"No. Six."

I knew I was in trouble then, but I didn't want to lose face; backing down wasn't an option. The last time we had only played to three points, and she won only twelve turns in. It occurred to me that perhaps scoring to six might give me an advantage - perhaps the extended duration might allow me to build some tolerance or resistance... She knew though that her pain threshold was higher than mine, and that I had a tendency to hold back. It really could be anyone's game.

"Ok, ok, six. I can do six, no problem."

She fixed me with a long stare. I felt myself fidgeting. Damn it! She knows I wriggle under scrutiny! She's trying to throw me off balance...

"What are the stakes?" I asked.

"Let's make them high. So choose your prize wisely."

"I see," I paused, thinking for a moment. "So... if I win, I want to watch you touch yourself. I want you to look me in the eyes as you stroke your clit. I want your foot on my cock. I want you to feel my gaze on you, my eyes taking in every movement, every detail, as you get wetter with each circle of your fingertips. I want you to bring yourself to the edge, and then... I'm going to spank you rhythmically to the tune of Rasputin by Boney M."

"What, really? Boney M?"

"No, not really. But maybe! I will then tie your hands to the headboard, and I will kiss you untl I can't resist fucking you anymore. That's what I want if I win."

She nodded.

"Hmm, not bad! And that's what you want, is it? That all works for me, yeah, agreed."

"What about you? What's your prize?"

She smiled at me with an evil glint in her eye.

"I want to tickle you."

"Tickle me?" I snorted.

"I know you're very ticklish."

I felt my cheeks bloom red.

"And," she continued, "I want to tickle you not just a little bit, not just a gentle tickling, but to tickle you so much that you are utterly wrecked. I'm going to assess every bit of your skin to find your most vulnerable spots, and then when I've finished, I'm going to absolutely ruin you. By the end you will beg for mercy! And I may, or may not, have some."

I swallowed.

"Wow, ok. You're choosing to torture for me for your prize? Is this because I beat you at 'Moose Moose Elk Goose'?"

"I have my reasons."

That probably meant yes. She knew that this would be intensely torturous for me, she knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. What had I done to deserve this then? I smiled inwardly. She knew that I'd love it as well. This was definitely going to be one of those nights whatever way it goes.

"Agreed. Those are the stakes then," I said.

We set the spanking bench up in the centre of the room, and turned down the lights so that they casted a diffuse glow across the shining leather apparatus. It had cuffs for the arms and legs affixed in place already, and at the top, where the head goes, lay a small wooden object shaped like a duck.

It was a duck call.

Duckslap. The idea is that the spankee is fixed in place with the duck call in their mouth. The spanker then has to make the spankee call like a duck. Each time they do is worth a point. The spanker who gets their six duck calls in the fewest amount of strikes wins. It sounds silly - and it is, and very funny - but it's a lot harder than it seems. For the spankee it can be gruelling - the longer they resist the more strikes they receive - but as they can bring an end to it themselves it can turn into a game of wills quite easily.

We tossed a coin to see who would go first, and I won it.

"I'll spank first," I said. "So... get on the bench."

She climbed onto the bench, laying flat on top of the pedestal. I moved across to her wrists, and fixed them in place, then did the same to her ankles.

She tested her bonds by tugging against them.

"How are they?"

"Pretty secure, I'd say. I'm not going anywhere."

"Then I think it's time for the quacker."

"It's a duck call!"

I moved the bench back to her head, picking up the duck call from beside her neck, brushing her with my fingers as I did.

"Open your mouth... now bite down. Ok, make a noise, let's see if it's still working."

She tried to say something but she just quacked instead, which made her laugh and spit it out. I always forget how stupid this game is, as it is usually overshadowed by the consequences, and how much it made us laugh.

I tried not to laugh as well, but didn't do a very good job of it. I picked it up and put it back in her mouth.

"You mustn't spit it out. If you do then that counts as an extra point for me, do you agree?"

She quacked in response.

"Excellent, that was easy."

She quacked again in protest.

"Oh I think two points would be going too far. You do like to make things hard on yourself. No no, we'll stick to one."

This time she didn't respond. I walked around her towards her rear, running my fingers gently from the nape of her neck to her lower back over her top, feeling muscles tense as I travelled down her spine. I hooked my fingers around her skirt and pulled it up to reveal red underwear. I smoothed my palm over her buttocks in a circular motion for a short while, enjoying the texture of the lace on my skin and the smooth warmth of her cheek blooming through the material. Consciously listening for any change to her breathing, I suddenly grasped and pulled them down. Sure enough there was a quick intake of breath. I wanted to increase the anticipation, especially for the first strike. I stopped moving for a moment, trying not to indicate my movement or position, enjoying the light and shade cast by the candles over her bare skin. I leaned in slowly and, then began to blow a gentle stream of cool air on the exposed flesh. She wriggled slightly as I did, and then, as I stood up, I gave her the first blow. She flinched, and yelped. The duck call sounded, and I laughed.

"Well, that's one point to me. And with the first spank as well."

I struck again, pretty hard, but this time she resisted; making no noise save for a couple of heavy breaths. Again, I struck, and again she resisted. On the fourth time, she made a little noise but not enough to set off the duckcall.

"Oh, that was close. You know, I'm thinking I might switch tactics; it's occurred to me that you might have had this game in mind for a while now, might have been preparing yourself mentally for it - and you know me very well, and you know my usual tricks, so perhaps this -" I spanked her suddenly, cutting myself short, trying to surprise her. It worked, and she yelped. The duckcall sounded again.

"Ah no, that's two points to me now," I said. I leaned in close to her ear, and whispered: "Brace yourself, because I'm really going to let you have it now."

I gave her a slight tap, more to throw her off as she was expecting something much harder - before giving her exactly that. The noise she made was the loudest yet; even the duck sounded surprised.

This was going much better than expected. Using dirty tactics seemed to be the way to win. It wasn't the force of the slap; it was the shock, the anticipation, the surprise. I'd learnt a lot since last we'd played, and I wondered what was going through her mind right now. Three points down, halfway there - and I had taken only seven turns so far.

I kissed her left cheek on the small red-blossomed patch, and she wriggled a little. I noticed her feet, toes scrunched; the tension in her body visible throughout. I spanked her again suddenly, but she was well prepared, and merely grunted. Again, I struck, and again, trying to keep my blows irregular, pausing for different lengths of time to try and catch her off guard, until finally I heard a loud quack from the other end of the bench.

This time I didn't say anything, trying to take advantage of the little window of reaction time to spank again immediately, barely giving her time to register the last one. This one worked, a honking quack rang out, and this time she spat it out too...

"So that was one for the previous one, and two for the final one because you spat it out. I make that six."

"That didn't count!"

"That's what we agreed at the start of the game..."

I undid her ankle cuffs, and moved to the front of the bench and began undoing her wrists.

"I did not! I could have gone for a few more turns after that! How many did you take anyway? I lost count."

"Sixteen, I think."

"Oh I am going to beat you so badly..."

I lay on the bench in the same position. I lifted my torso as she pulled off my top. She tossed aside. A fleeting thought crossed my mind - why my top? - as she moved behind me. I lifted my pelvis as she wriggled my shorts down my legs, leaving me in just my boxer shorts and socks.

"I hope you are prepared for what I'm about to do to you," she said, pulling down my boxers and hooking her fingers into my socks, and removed all of them in one movement..

Suddenly I felt apprehensive. She really seemed to want to get me this evening. I felt myself wriggling a bit, involuntarily, and suddenly became acutely aware of how exposed I was.

She secured me in place on the bench; the cuffs still warm from her own turn. She came back round to my front and glared down at me.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Prepared," she said, giving me a little tap.

"Oh very. My mind is made of steel, my armour is my willpower," I said with false bravado.

I noticed then that she was hiding something behind her back.

"What's that you've got?"

"Oh this?" She brought it round into view. It was a paddle; wooden, and varnished, with carved thistle on the handle and a little leather toggle that was wrapped around her wrist. I felt my buttocks clench.

"Wait, you're using a paddle? I didn't know we could use paddles!"

"Well we never said we couldn't, did we?" she said.

"That's cheating!"

"You wanted to play dirty, well, you've got it, sunshine..."

Before I could reply, she shoved the duck call in my mouth. I tensed up, trying not to breathe too hard, trying not to set the damn thing off, trying not to think about what was going to happen next.

That was my first mistake. Well, second. Possibly third. By this point it was irrelevant.

The sting spread across my skin like a lightning bolt as the paddle hit hard, without warning, across both buttocks.

"Quack!" I couldn't help it, it just happened. I felt myself blush, and tried not to laugh, but it came out in a series of bursts.

"How many times did you quack then, do you think? It must have been at least eight times..."

My eyes widened. Surely that doesn't count! She doesn't think she's won already, does she?

"... but we'll count it as one. There's no way I'm only hitting you once, after all..."

I wriggled, but wasn't going anywhere. The next strike was just as swift as the last, but this time I was more prepared. It hurt, and I felt myself want to yelp, but managed to contain it before it came out. There was a point on the wall where a triangular shadow stopped, and I stared at it, using it as a focal point as I braced myself for the next paddle hit.

She smacked it hard on the underside of my left cheek where it meets the back of the thigh. I winced, and a little whimper came out of my nose.

"Oh come on now, we've only just started. You're going to be pink all over by the time I've finished with you... I'll tell you what, why don't I give you a countdown? That's fair, isn't it? That'll give you time to prepare... Five, four, three, two, one -"

That one really smarted, but still I didn't cry out.

"Again. Five, four, three, two, one..."

There was a pause. I froze.

Ow! Already this was getting a bit much, and she was only on turn five.

"Five, four, three-two-one!"

This time I did yelp, and the duck call sounded loudly.

"That's two to me, on turn six..."

I had to stiffen my resolve. I knew this was bad, but if she won...

She hit me again, and again, and then once more twice as hard. I whimpered again, but didn't set off the call.

Then she briefly tickled my bum. It felt like pulses of electricity shooting up my back, and I screamed, a short sharp quack of a scream, and the duck call flew from my mouth and clattered on the floor.

"Wait, wait, wait! That one doesn't count."

"On the contrary, it does count, and what's more it counts for two. Your rules."

They were my rules, dammit! I didn't think ahead, fool that I was, and realised that I had inadvertently sealed my own fate. Unless I could hold out a little longer.

"Fine, but no more tickl-mmph!"

She'd put the duck-call back in my mouth.

"So that's... four. And I'm only on turn nine."

Ten! She was on turn ten! This was unfair, outrageous!

The paddle hit me again, and I couldn't help but grunt softly. It seemed to be a little warm up shot though, as the next one stung like an angry wasp. My behind was getting pretty sore now, and each strike was getting more painful as time went on. Again she struck me, and again I grunted. She began rhythmically smacking me, one, two, three, and so on, eliciting small whimpers from my throat. I couldn't hold out much longer, and sure enough, a loud quack suddenly peeled around the room.

"Five!" she said.

Surely she'd taken too many turns now? Surely I'd won?

She came round the bench to look at me. I was sweating, trying to compose myself with little luck. She stroked my cheek with her finger, smiling down at me.

"One more duck call and I've won. I bet you thought this was going your way, didn't you? I bet you thought you had this one in the bag. What do you have to say for yourself?"

She took the duck call from my mouth.

"You haven't won! I've won. You've still got one more quack to-"

She shoved the duck call back in my mouth mid-sentence, which of course quacked loudly.

"Done," she said, removing it.

"That doesn't count!"

She leaned in closer to me.

"Oh yes it does. You see, you thought you could play dirty with me. Trick me. You were going to sidle your way out of this one by breaking all the rules. But even if I'd taken a hundred turns and you still hadn't made a noise, I'd still have won. I won as soon as you cheated. From the moment you let yourself be strapped in you condemned yourself to the most torturous of fates..."

"I.... I..." I tried to reply, but no words came out. I licked my lips nervously.

"But before that, I don't think I've spanked you enough. You've been extremely naughty after all, and you deserve everything you're going to get."

"I'll remember this!"

"Oh, I'm sure you will."

She disappeared from sight, and I felt a nail drifting down my back, over my bum and down between my thighs. I squirmed, trying not to giggle. She reached between my legs and pulled my cock gently out from under me, so it was forced to point down between my legs and pushed itself against the bench. It was already aching, but the added pressure felt so intense I thought it might snap off. She stroked it gently for a few seconds before whacking me with the paddle once again. She took her time, relishing every blow. It was stinging quite a lot now, and I was beginning to feel a euphoric, blissful sensation spreading across my body and mind, my cock throbbing under me. I was crying out, breathing in sharply, bracing myself for each hit. She kept encouraging me, telling me she thought I was doing well, pretending to have sympathy as if she was a helpless observer and not the evil perpetrator.

I don't know how many times she spanked my behind, but it was burning with heat, and I was getting close to spitting out my safeword as it was hard to bear. I was getting close to coming as well, I could feel the pressure, and I was sure that I would, given any further stimulation.

Finally she relented. I was breathing heavily, trying to relax my tense body, waiting for her to release me from my shackles.

"Now it's time for my reward," she said from behind me.

Oh. Fuck.

I was so focused on my spanking that I had forgotten what was to come.

"Now I'm going to tickle you, and there's nothing you can do about it. I'm going to seek and destroy your most sensitive spots. I'm going to tickle you in places you didn't even know you had. And then, when you are a dribbling mess, I'm going to bring you to the edge, and then I'm going to tickle you again and see if I can make you come that way. What do you say to that?"

I stuttered and fluttered and couldn't find any words. She knew this would be deliciously

devastating; just hearing her say it was enough to elicit pulses of energy from my cock, which was still straining against the bench.

She started gently, running just one finger in swirling, curling patterns over my back, which made my skin fizz, and my body writhe.

"I can see your back is quite sensitive," she said, adding a couple more fingers. I began giggling softly, trying to contain it. I didn't want it to be too easy for her.

"All of me is sensitive," I tried to say.

Suddenly she quickly slid her hands to my ribs and side and spidered her fingers quickly. I gasped, or screamed - I don't know which. I couldn't hear myself, just feel the intense skittering of her fingers up and down my ribcage. I wriggled as much as I could, straining against my bonds. As quickly as she started, she stopped.

"Ribs," she said. I heard a pen scratching on paper. "I'll put that one down as a high priority... an eight"

"What are you doing?"

"Making a plan of attack. Unless you want to tell me where your worst spots are?"

"Oh no, I don't think I would be able to give you that information, it's, er, I think it would be illegal to do that, sorry about i-"

My neck! She'd gone straight for my neck, and it was unbearable. I thrashed my head from side to side, trying to pin her fingers down, but of course exposing the other side by doing so. I knew it was futile but I could not help it.

I pretended to bite her, hoping she'd back off for a moment. She shot me a look of pure indignance.

"I will gag you if you are not careful."

Her fingers kept skittering, around the nape of my neck and down to my shoulder blades. I nearly howled, but kept it in, and I tried to speak, but no words came out - only a steam of garbled half words and nonsense.

"I'd give your neck an eight too, and your upper back a seven. Are you really going to let me test every part of you? Or are you just going to tell me? You'd be saving yourself even more torture."

I stuttered a bit.

"I can't do it," I managed.

She moved behind me then, and I couldn't see her.

Electric flashes of energy shot through and over my skin from the minute points of contact she'd made with her fingernails, testing each part of my body in turn, from my armpits to my ears to the back of my thighs, my toes, my balls... Occasionally she'd stop to ask if I wanted to give up, but she knew by this point that even if I wanted to I'd struggle to articulate it.

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, my eyes wet with tears. My cock was throbbing beneath me, continually squeezed with every fresh wriggle I was forced to make. I didn't know how much more I could take. It did occur to me that if I wanted to safeword then I might have difficulty doing so, and I'd have to trust she would be able to tell that that was what I was trying to do. I'd started to disappear into my head a bit. I could hear myself shrieking and laughing but it sounded like someone else was doing it. Then, it stopped.

"Well, that's it. I've got all your death spots written down, so it's time to start your actual punishment. But first you need to hold this in your hand."

She pressed a metal ball into my hands the size of a large marble.

"I know you have trouble with your words sometimes. So if you need me to stop, just drop it. But otherwise, hold it tight."

She went behind me, disappearing from sight.

"I'm going to start at this end of you first, and I'm going to work my way up your body wherever I please. I'm going to focus on all your worst spots. I'm going to start with your toes, and then over your feet, your ankles, behind your knees, between your thighs, your balls, and your cock. And then your bum, your back, sides, armpits... and then, when I get to your neck, you are going to go down on me, and I won't stop tickling you until I am satisfied. How does that sound?"

I couldn't really reply, I was flustered and tongue-twisted; I was helpless and captured; burning with an energy I could only really describe as willful defiance despite being more turned on than I could ever remember. I wanted her to do it. I was terrified, and thrilled.

"Then, we'll begin."

And she did. She began scribbling on and between my toes, and I erupted with laughter.

I don't know how long I lay there, my exposed nerve endings clustered together for protection, my skin flashing with bursts of unendurable sensation, moving across like the ripple of a fish. She lingered on spots that made me squeal, and listened for subtle changes in my reactions to judge effectiveness and position, sometimes suddenly changing location without warning, sometimes sending her hands skittering around independently and unpredictably.

"Shh! Stop making so much noise," she said.

"I can't help it!" I tried to say between laughter.

"Well you had better help it because if you don't, then I will spank you every time you make a sound."

Oh shit. I could still feel the sting from before. There was no way I could take this quietly, and she knew it.

I flashed in and out of a semi-conscious dream state, losing all sense of time. She relished my torment as she moved up and up my body, occasionally pausing to check on me, but quickly resuming once it was clear. She spanked me around ten times in the first few seconds, and quickly came to realise that it wasn't sustainable. From then on, she only spanked me when I let out a particularly loud squeak or scream. I could feel them, but were quickly overpowered by the tickles. I came then; huge powerful waves coursed through me and shook my muscles, but the tickling - now her fingers were focused on climbing my ribs like a ladder - still shot through the sensations, punctuated by short sharp bursts of pain from my backside, getting worse and worse, to the point I couldn't stand any more -

I dropped the ballbearing, which thudded onto the wood-panelled floor. She immediately stopped the tickling.

"No, no, no, no..." I managed to say. I was breathing heavily, my whole body aching.

"Are you ok?"

I couldn't reply properly.

"I'm letting you out now," she said, but I shook my head.

"No, no, not yet," I got past my lips.

She paused and looked at me.

"You want to carry on?"

I nodded, and she pulled off her underwear. She sat on the bench by my head, and lifted her leg over so she was facing me. I could feel the warmth radiating from her legs on my cheeks.

"You say when you are ready, and we'll begin again."

I'd caught my breath. And now I'd get to help her come. I nodded, looking up at her from below.

She slid herself towards me, and I kissed up her leg until my lips met her labia. I began to kiss, and use my tongue, circling the perimeters with its tip slowly and rhythmically. She pushed herself against me, and I could feel the heat and moisture on my lips and chin. Then her hands began gently tickling around the base of my hairline, behind my ears, and I felt my flesh squirm as she did so. She moved with the rhythm, and as I squirmed, trying my best to pleasure her, I felt myself synching my squirms with her thrusts. She moved her hands up and down my neck and back as I circled her lips with my tongue, honing in on the hood of her clit, not quite stimulating it, not quite touching it - as best as I could, anyway. I was squirming a lot, trying not to laugh. Occasionally I'd brush something very sensitive and she'd let out a soft moan above me. I could feel her pulse somehow, or perhaps it was mine, and she began to push harder and strong, squashing my nose against my face, buried deep in her flesh. I could feel myself getting hard again, even though it still ached from my own orgasm.

I pushed my tongue, then, inside her, and massaged the soft tissue I could feel inside, trying to build up the intensity whilst simultaneously trying to breathe and resist the gentle tickling I was receiving from above. I felt one hand stop the tickling and slide down in front of my face, stroking and massaging herself around her clit. Her moans were becoming louder, and more forceful. Both of us were gasping, and I could feel her building to a climax, and I knew I had to push through and help get her there...

She bruised my cheekbone when she finally did by squeezing my head between her legs. I thought she might crush it, but just before I thought my eyes might pop out of their sockets, she began to relax, and she flopped her weight on top of me. Our breathing synced, and we rose and fell together for a while, skin to skin, until eventually she rose, and undid me from my bonds. I was a mess, a gibbering shell, and I flinched at every touch. I was shivering a bit from the sweat, or adrenaline, or both. She placed her hands on me and firmly stroked me so as to minimise any accidental tickles, cuddling me into her body as she did so until I became more stable and calm. Eventually, when I felt capable, we moved into the bedroom, and lay on the bed cuddling each other.

She leaned into my ear, and I tensed up, not knowing what to expect.

"I think I won that one," she whispered.